


let's have some fun

by ambitioncutsusdown



Category: The Maze Runner Series - James Dashner
Genre: Hand Jobs, M/M, Minor Spoilers for The Death Cure, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-22
Updated: 2015-01-22
Packaged: 2018-03-08 16:25:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3215738
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ambitioncutsusdown/pseuds/ambitioncutsusdown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"How’s the heat?"</p><p>"Still not working."</p>
            </blockquote>





	let's have some fun

**Author's Note:**

> posted on [tumblr](http://queerharrypotter.tumblr.com/post/82384208538/basically-pwp-thominho-that-i-needed-to-get-out-of) earlier and i decided to fix it a lil and post it here as well :)

"How’s the heat?"

"Still not working."

Minho curses under his breath, rubbing his hands together in an attempt to warm them, but his fingers still feel like ice and his skin is tingling in the unpleasant kind of way. “Paradise they call this,” he mumbles, more to himself than Thomas. “Freezing my ass off, yeah. Fucking paradise.”

A soothing noise falls from Thomas’ lips, his hands coming to rest on Minho’s shoulders. “We’ve hardly been here for seven months. It’s never been this cold.”

"What if it gets colder?"

"What if it doesn’t?"  Minho sighs, shrugging his shoulders to let Thomas’ hand fall away. "What if I’m fucking frozen to death before it gets warmer?" 

Thomas mumbles something that sounds a lot like  _freaking drama all the time_ , but Minho ignores him, focusing on more important things instead. Like how to get warm again.

"Sleep with me," he deadpans, getting to his feet and making a face in annoyance when Thomas doesn’t move. "I’m serious."

"You want me to —  _what_?” Thomas finally sputters, eyes wide and his voice cracking on the last word.

Minho sighs in frustration. “It’s fucking cold.”

"I’m aware of that."

"So get in bed with me. We can use all the blankets we have. At least that way we’ll have a  _little_ heat.”

He stares as Thomas’ face slowly relaxes in realization, a faint blush dusting his cheeks and making him look younger than he is, a sort of innocent vibe that Minho has to admit suits him; but then  _he_ realizes what Thomas was thinking and he has to turn around to hide the darkening of his own cheeks. 

A shiver that isn’t entirely from the lack of warmth goes down his spine. Minho pretends he doesn’t feel it.

"Come on," he says again, not waiting for Thomas but going straight to his bedroom instead.

He spends the time it takes for Thomas to get the sheets from his bed and come to Minho’s room debating whether he should take his clothes off or not. He’s not very keen on stripping, but he also knows he won’t be able to get comfortable if he wears too many clothes.

In the end he settles for just wearing pants, figures that will have to do as he slides under the covers just when Thomas walks in.

"Um."

"Just put the sheets on the bed and get in here. Don’t make me get out and drag you."

Thomas nods, be it a little stiff, but listens to him anyway. He spreads his sheets out on top of Minho’s, who lets out a little noise at the instant extra warmth. 

He can feel the bed dip, knows that Thomas has gotten in behind him, and when he finally stops moving, Minho closes his eyes and hopes he’ll get warm soon enough to fall asleep. He just wants to get some rest and wake up in the morning to normal temperatures again. 

Only he  _can’t_ , because Thomas keeps shifting every other minute, sighing and groaning and tossing and turning.

"Would you please stay still? Right  _now_.”

"My feet are freezing."

"Suck it up."

Minho hisses in surprise when Thomas brushes his feet against Minho’s leg. They might just as well be made out of ice, instantly making Minho shiver. “Jesus.”

"Can’t get warm," Thomas complains in a voice that sounds a lot like it belongs to a five year old. 

Sighing, Minho turns around. He pretends to be more annoyed than he is when he presses close to Thomas, fitting his body behind that of his friend, chest to back. His hand lies awkwardly on Thomas’ side. 

"Better?" he asks, voice barely above a whisper, and somehow it feels  _intimate_. Alone in their little beacon of warmth. 

"A bit," Thomas whispers, but Minho can feel him relax against his chest, and, well,  _a bit_  is better than nothing, so he takes it.

Slowly he notices that Thomas stops shivering, that he’s actually leaning back against Minho, that his breathing is getting quieter, a little slower. Until he’s asleep, and Minho can close his eyes as well, knowing Thomas is okay. 

He slips his arm further around him until his palm is resting on Thomas’ stomach, and his face is pressed in the crook of his neck.

Lulled to sleep by the warmth and the comfort and the  _safety_ , he dozes off not much later. 

At first he thinks it’s a dream. A very nice,  _very inappropriate_ dream, one like he’s had at least a dozen times before, where he wakes up either sticky or hard. A dream in which Thomas makes a guest appearance (or, more like, has a leading role). An innocent  _not so innocent_  dream.

Then he hears Thomas whimper and he opens his eyes and it’s fucking not a dream.

He wasn’t just imagining rutting against Thomas’ ass and feeling him up.

 _He was actually doing it_.

Minho is waiting for the ground to swallow him whole, but then Thomas arches his back, hips grinding down over Minho’s crotch, and maybe this is  _worse_  because Thomas still asleep but moving anyway and Minho isn’t sure if he should wake him up and face the awkwardness that will follow, or if he should just let him do this and… still deal with the awkwardness later. Because Thomas can’t stay asleep forever. 

God, he’s so fucked. And  _hard_.

"Thomas," he whispers, though it comes out as a whine, too needy for his own liking.

There’s no reaction, so he tries again, whispering Thomas’ name again and digging his fingers in Thomas’ skin and — okay.

That was a moan.

Thomas is moaning. 

Minho rests his forehead against Thomas’ shoulder, positive that he’s going to combust within five minutes. Either that or he’s going to cream his pants, and at the moment he’s not really sure what the difference between those is. 

Another noise, another roll of Thomas’ hips, and a whine. “Don’t stop,” Thomas slurs, his hand coming to rest on top of the one Minho has on his stomach.

"You’re awake?" Minho asks, the only thing he can of to ask.

"I can pretend to still be asleep. As long as you don’t stop."

Breath hitching in his throat, Minho bucks his hips forward, grinding against Thomas ass. He’s too late with biting back his noise, moaning straight into Thomas’ ear and getting a “ _fuck yes_ " in reply. 

"Christ, Thomas," Minho whispers, his movements speeding up almost automatically until he’s just  _thrusting_  against Thomas, too caught up in the moment to feel Thomas moving their hands.

He however  _does_  feel it when Thomas slides his hand to his crotch, can feel his dick through his pants, hard and  _hot_.

He doesn’t even need to do anything; Thomas is bucking into his hand in the opposite rhythm as Minho is rutting against him, and his head is falling back on Minho’s shoulder — giving Minho the _perfect_  access to his throat. And he makes use of that, mouthing wetly over Thomas’ pale skin, breathing harshly against it. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Thomas curses again, pushing down harder, making Minho’s palm press against his dick, and Minho’s almost certain he can feel it jerk into his touch.

He has no idea how long it takes, but all of sudden Thomas is tensing up, arched completely towards Minho, and he’s  _coming_  with a moan that is  _filthy_  and so fucking good. Minho gasps breathily, trying to work Thomas through it as good as he can, but it’s hard to concentrate as his own orgasm hits him and all he can do is shudder and bite Thomas’ shoulder to hold back something that would’ve probably been a scream. 

While coming down from his high, Minho tries to not freak out too much about what just happened. 

He can’t help freaking out  _a little bit_ , though, clearing his throat before mumbling a “what… was that?”

Thomas’ answer comes in the form of a laugh and a pleased hum. “That, was nice. And  _hot_.”

"Nice and hot?"

Thomas nods, moving Minho’s hand to his stomach again and entwining their fingers. Minho can catch a glimpse of his smile. “Mhmh. I think we should sleep together more often.”

Letting out a little chuckle, Minho relaxes against him again and nods. “Okay.”

 


End file.
